


Blood / Ink

by missgoalie75



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 20:58:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2825906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missgoalie75/pseuds/missgoalie75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He never read a word of his dad's writing, but it inspires Jax to take a few blank pages by his dad's typewriter and hoard them in his bedroom, to save them for words that matter.</i> | writer!Jax AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood / Ink

**Author's Note:**

> **Full list of characters/pairings:** Jax/Tara; Opie, Gemma, Clay, various club members
> 
>  **Spoilers/Warnings:** none – AU pre-canon; sex, cursing, the usual on the show
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** Literature references made are obviously not mine.
> 
>  **A/N:** Firstly, thank you Beth for indulging on this headcanon. Secondly, thank you Dee for beta-ing since I kind of cornered you there (I LOVE YOU). I think if the show didn't end the way it did, this fic would've turned out differently, but you know what, you can't deny what the heart wants.

_And you discover that home_  
_Is not a person or a place,_  
_But a feeling you can't get back._  
_\- Noah Gundersen_

This is the prologue:

Jax is twelve and sees his dad hunched over a typewriter, something his mom gave him for his birthday. He's surprised, especially since Mom and Dad have been distant, grieving.

He forgets sometimes that Tommy is dead, never coming back. His mom does too, calling out for him and stuttering in the next breath, a reprieve she pays for in choked sobs and squeezing Jax too tightly at night to compensate.

His dad either doesn't notice Jax in the room or ushers him out when he's writing. He never reads a word of his dad's writing, but it inspires Jax to take a few blank pages by his dad's typewriter and hoard them in his bedroom, to save them for words that matter.

 

**

This is the beginning:

Jax spots Tara for the first time in high school homeroom freshman year. Charming is a small town, but he only knew who was important at fourteen.

 _Tara Knowles_. She raises her hand and says, "Here," in a monotone voice. She wears jeans and a simple white t-shirt, hair up in a high ponytail.

That night he jerks off to thoughts of fucking her, pulling on that ponytail so he can mark her good on her pulse point.

 

**

That same year, his father is hit by a semi and lies broken and bloody for two days before he finally goes into that good night (at least he did not go gentle). Jax tries not to cry, to be a man for his mom, but he doesn't do well come the funeral. He's embarrassed that he can't be like the Sons, sturdy and silent in their respect.

He misses school for a week, but when he comes back, everyone gives him a wide berth, save for Tara. She comes right up to him and hands him a stack of papers.

"Notes you missed. If you need help, let me know."

It's his first smile since the accident.

 

**

Tara doesn't show off her cleavage (much) and doesn't wear skirts or shorts that go against the dress code. She doesn't need to. Her rebellion runs bone-deep.

She stares him dead in the eye and the corner of her mouth twitches. She makes him want to pick up a pen and write poetic nonsense until his hands ache.

 

**

They both lost a parent and yet she became one for her father. She's too responsible at home and at school and yet she goes to parties and downs more alcohol than half the guys in their grade.

"Refill?" he asks her over the thumping music.

"Yeah."

"What's your poison?"

"I'll have what you're having."

He smirks at her. "Whiskey and Coke?"

"Why Coke?"

He gives her a real smile. "Just being considerate, darlin'."

She smiles – it's small, but it's the biggest one he's seen. "Well aren't you a gentleman. Too bad I never asked you to be one."

They barely go through a drink before his mouth finds hers. He's half-drunk, but this feels _way_ different. He may write, but he's not a goddamn writer – he doesn't think of cliché, chick-flick shit like this.

They don't go far – he barely gets a feel of the curve of her ass, but he doesn't mind too much.

 

**

She may have that itch for going against authority, but she has her morals and standards and she won't jump into bed with him. He wants her badly and it doesn't stop him from trying.

But the thing is, he likes chatting her up. If it even counts as chatting her up – she gives it back just as good. He likes that she doesn't fall over him like every other girl just because he's the son of the founding member and a guaranteed future member of SAMCRO.

"What do you write during class?" she asks one day while they're sitting outside during lunch. They're sharing his last cigarette.

"What?"

She shrugs, taking a drag and god, he wants to shotgun _badly._ "I just see you writing and I know you're not taking notes."

He laughs, taking the cigarette from her, making sure their fingers touch. "I could be studious."

She gives him a look and he laughs again.

"Okay, fine, I just…write stuff," he admits, scratching the back of his head.

She stares off for a moment and then nods. "Nice," is all she says and then asks him if he wants to pick her up for David's party tonight.

He had plans with Nicole-something, but he doesn't give a shit about her and agrees.

 

**

"I don't want you making promises you can't keep," she tells him one night while they're lying on this senior's guestroom bed. They both have their shirts off and the button of her jeans is open. He's just made her come with his fingers and that's prime material he can use for weeks.

"Okay."

 

**

"You must really like this girl," Opie says while they're drinking a six-pack out in the desert.

Jax shrugs and takes a pull from the can.

"Well, I like her. She's cool – she helped me with my Bio homework. Laid it out real simple."

Jax can't help but smile. "Yeah, she's smart. Really smart."

"She can keep up with you more than the other girls."

There's no denying that. Jax loves Opie – he's like a brother to him, especially with losing Thomas, that future void he would've inevitably had was filled with him. But Opie isn't interested in reading or other shit that Jax likes, that he hides from the club, from everyone.

"I'm not ready to settle down," Jax reveals. "She wants…everything. And she deserves it, really."

"She won't wait forever, brother."

The thought of her with any other guy makes him _sick_.

 

**

Sixteen is when he bites the bullet and asks Tara out on a real date.

(He overhears Hale talking to his loser friends about maybe asking her out and there's no _fucking goddamn way_ that's happening on his watch.)

 

**

He takes her to a nice restaurant outside of Charming, to get away from prying eyes. Tara seems to appreciate the gesture because she's more generous with her smiles.

He doesn't understand half the pasta options, but Tara considers out loud, using English names. She never gives him any patronizing look and doesn't mention it ever, but that's what he likes about her. She's a generous person, she's not calculating like so many people in his life.

He kisses her on her front porch, proper and all, and plans on driving home, but she sneaks him into the house, bypassing her drunk daddy, and they –

It's not fucking. It can't be – she's never done it before and he takes his time. But 'making love'? That's some bullshit there.

 

**

One night he's at the shop, learning tricks of the trade when she walks in, shivering sleep shorts and a t-shirt splattered with beer stains, feet dirty and dried tears on her face.

"It's fine," Tara says in a cracked voice, still hiding her face into his chest. "He was just angry tonight, I'm fine."

Jax holds her tight to him and considers all the ways he wants to murder that drunk bastard.

Gemma gives Tara a nod and rubs her back comfortingly. "Get some sleep, baby. It'll all be better in the morning."

Once Tara is in his bedroom, Gemma says to him, "Tell her she better come directly here if that shit happens again. Don't need a sixteen-year-old girl wandering the streets at night."

"A'ight."

He tells Tara such, but she doesn't seem to really believe him. He can't blame her – it's not like his mom has been the most welcoming since he brought her home for the first time to meet the family.

 

**

When they finish school for the summer, he takes her to the tattoo shop where the Sons get their ink and he gets Thomas on a gravestone tattooed on his arm. He got special permission from Clay – probably because he's marrying his mom and wants to adopt him as a son for the last two years of being a minor. Jax doesn't care at this point – whatever makes his mom happy.

While his arm is worked on, he watches her gaze at the wall armed with the intent she usually has while studying. "You think you want a tat?" he asks her.

She blinks out of her focused state and gives him a fleeting smile. "I don't know. Maybe."

He glances around the studio, spotting a few old ladies, crows flashing proudly on lower backs or the back of their necks. "I wouldn't mind seeing a crow on you eventually."

She looks at him with a raised eyebrow. "Really."

"Mmmhmm."

She smiles, rubbing her thumb over his hand.

 

**

The night of Clay and his mom's wedding, he stays up writing until five in the morning. At first it's a letter to his dad, then it shifts to Thomas, wishing he had a brother who was living under the same roof as him, and then he just…writes. Feelings, hopes, dreams, all that shit.

Tara wakes up beside him and sleepily rests her head on his bare shoulder. "D'y'write fiction?"

He doesn't bother hiding his work – she's not awake enough to read it. "Not really."

"Y'should." She falls back asleep.

Maybe.

 

**

"I love you."

She freezes in his arms and she searches his face. He thinks he's supposed to be nervous about this confession, but he's not. Far from it.

"I love you too."

He smiles and she smiles so brightly that he has to say it again. And again.

 

**

Seventeen consists of Jax and Tara going to each other's houses every night to share a bed, unwilling to be apart. He gets made fun of by the MC, but he can't give a shit, not when he feels like Tara is the only thing that's _right_ besides that feeling he gets when he puts pen to paper.

He still wants that Harley and that kutte badly – he's wanted it since he was five and that hasn't changed.

(At least he doesn't think so.)

 

**

He gets his motorcycle license as quickly as possible and he's gifted a Harley of his own. It's white, it has to be until he's a member, but he loves it, a new extension of himself that's finally manifested.

"It's sexy," Tara says, nipping at his ear.

"Wanna feel her purr?"

The logistics of having sex on a motorcycle doesn't work, but mutual handjobs do the trick.

 

**

Teachers are talking about the SATs and Jax spots study books in Tara's room. He doesn't bring it up. What _she_ does though is sign him up without telling him, make him give her a ride to the school at seven in the morning on a Saturday, and then tell him he needs to take the test.

It's too long and he almost flips his desk over in anger after the second hour, but during breaks, she hands him little bags of trail mix – the ones he likes with the M&Ms and gives him _looks_.

(Afterwards they find an empty classroom and fuck so hard that Tara has a bit of trouble walking afterwards, making him grin from ear to ear.)

 

**

He gets a 1460 and Tara whacks him in the arm with the nearest textbook.

"I studied for _months_ and got a 1500. _You_ don't study _shit_ and you get _that_? Fuck you, Teller!" she complains with every smack.

He laughs and rips the textbook out of her grip, tossing it carelessly behind him. "Here," he says, handing over the papers. "Since you wanted it."

She takes everything from him, making sure all the papers are in order before sticking them back into the envelope. "Okay."

He swallows. "This doesn't mean anything, Tara."

"I know."

"I hate school."

"I'm aware." She gives him a look. "I just wanted something nice to look at after I finished sections."

He grins. "Always at your service for that, darlin'."

 

**

The summer before senior year is spent in a drunken and high haze – full of triumph of being seniors. Jax blacks out some nights and wakes up the next afternoon with scribbled nonsense on empty fast food bags and once, carved into his nightstand: _don't forget the sanctity_. Whatever that means. He leaves it alone and stares at it sometimes, wondering what the fuck his mindset was beyond being drunk as fuck.

 

**

"Hey, want to get out of here?" Jax asks Tara in the hallway between fourth and fifth period. It's the second week of classes.

"Yeah," she says, taking his hand and leading him out. "I have the keys to the Cutlass – found them while attempting to clean."

"Just when I think you can't have any more of my heart."

She throws back a smile fit for a minx.

 

**

They drive for hours – she can handle a stick from too many times of having to drive her daddy home from the bar and he likes watching her do it with ease. He controls the radio and dozes, watching highway signs and trees and desert.

They end up in Santa Cruz where the air is clean with the ocean and sand seems to get stuck in his shoes the minute he gets out of the car. They get burgers and fries at a local dig and buy a twelve-pack and park themselves on a secluded strip of the beach. The sun sets and he's writing in his notebook, a race against the sinking sun before he can't see his own handwriting.

She hands him a beer when he stuffs his notebook into his bag. "Will you ever let me read what you write?"

He downs half of it before answering her. "Maybe. I don't know."

"I won't judge you."

"Even though I judged you for liking the frog dissection freshman year?"

"I think that's one of the good parts of love," she continues as if he didn't say anything; it's not like he actually gave her real shit for it. "Not judging each other when the rest of the world would," she says.

They only drink and make out after that, eventually deciding to skinny dip in the fucking Pacific Ocean and getting arrested on top of that, but he remembers it, thinking about it while Tara is sleeping with her head in his lap and he watches the sky change from dark to light.

 

**

Gemma arrives at the jail the next morning to bail them out, furious for having to drive over two hours.

"Just follow me – don't need your ocean-smelling shit in my new car," Gemma grumbles as they walk out of the station.

"Thank you, Gemma," Tara says, appropriately solemn, in Jax's opinion.

"Yeah, you better thank me."

 

**

She submits her applications through the mail and she nearly throws up from nerves, which Jax cannot fathom.

"Babe, you're gonna get in. Wherever you want. Now _relax_ ," he drawls, pulling her in close, pressing his hard-on against her inner thigh.

"Not in the mood." She pushes him off her.

He pouts and it's disgusting how much it works for him. "Tara…" he trails off, his hands now on her thighs, slowly moving up, pushing her skirt to her hips.

"Jax," she starts warningly, but he's brought his face to her underwear and she loses the ability to form words.

 

**

For Christmas, Jax gets her a bracelet – a nice one that you can add charms to. He bought one that looks like a crow that he plans to give her as soon as he becomes a member.

(He'll be eighteen in a few months and he can be a prospect, _finally_.)

She gives him a large smile that's just for him and this is it, he knows it is.

 

**

1996 is a blur and he almost drops out of high school when he turns eighteen, but Tara threatens to hold off on sex until she graduates if he doesn't finish with her.

"A high school degree is better than a GED – suck it up and finish it. The club will respect that in the long run," Tara says firmly.

He tells the club that he'll be finishing school, but he'll make up the work in the summer. They give it the OK, mainly because Clay is nodding like he's proud of him and the members wouldn't dare go against royalty.

(Future president.)

((He talks about it with Tara once, about his potentially running SAMCRO and usually Tara is very reserved when it comes to her emotions, even with him, but he can tell she's hesitant to consider it.

"You _do_ know that's my future, right?" he asks, worried.

"It's not your only future," she answers lowly.

They don't talk about it again, but it hangs heavily between them for months.))

 

**

She gets acceptance letters to all the places she applies to, but she only cares about the places that will give her a full ride.

"The closest one is UC San Diego," Jax concludes out loud.

She nods, biting her bottom lip. "My dad's cousin lives in San Diego. I could live with her."

The silence that follows is strained.

He watches her swallow, eyes narrowed in thought. "I might take some time off. Defer my acceptance," she considers.

He exhales in relief and kisses her temple.

(He has _no idea_ what he's going to do – he doesn't think he can do this with Tara so far away from him.)

 

**

"I was a tenth of a percent away from salutatorian," Tara grumbles yet again as the kid on stage stumbles through his salutatorian speech.

"I don't think your speech would've been what the school wanted," Jax points out.

"I would've cut the cursing to a minimum and would've only throw one middle finger," she retorts.

He smiles and shakes his head.

The rest of the ceremony is painful and sitting through all the names is even worse, but when their principal says "Tara Knowles," he gets to his feet and cheers. And to his surprise and pleasure, the club also stands up and claps for her. He can tell she's surprised by the way her head whips to the crowd, but she finds Jax in the audience and smiles.

When his name is called, he swaggers across the stage at graduation, the club hooting and whistling in approval and his teachers don't even bother hiding their pure relief.

 

**

"Can't believe we made it, brother," Opie says, clinking his glass of whiskey to Jax's. They're in the clubhouse, a rare party since two prospects, sons of highly ranked members, have graduated high school and it's a good excuse as any to get fucked up.

"Gentlemen, since you're scholars and all, we'd like to offer you stimuli for your other brain…" Tig says, giving them leering smiles as he gestures two hot women to come to them.

"Sorry, Tig, thanks for the offer, but," Jax nods at the corner where Tara is talking to Piney. "I'm set."

"I'm _disgusted_ by your early onset of monogamy."

"It's not a _disease_ ," Jax scoffs.

"Well, enjoy your night, boys, because come tomorrow, it's time for makeup work."

Jax has no doubt he's going to get his ass kicked this summer to make up for the last few months of school, but in the meantime, he's going to drink and make out with Tara until they get kicked out or thrown into an empty bedroom.

 

**

Prospect work is _grueling_ , Opie and he getting the worst of it to prove their worth. He knows it's for the best so no one will dare question their value when they eventually make it to the redwood table, but it doesn't stop him from complaining to Tara at four in the morning, the first time he's seen her in three days.

"It's ridiculous hazing," Tara hisses, helping him scrub mud and blood off his body since he's nodding off in the tub. "I don't like this, Jax. You almost got caught by the _cops_ – I know the Sons have the department in their pocket, but _what if_ –"

"I'm not gonna get caught, I'm better than that, don't worry –"

She drops the washcloth into the tub and grips his head between her hands, forcing him to look at her. "Of _course_ I worry – do you think I got any sleep these past few days? I'm going through this _with you_."

He swallows and brings his one clean hand to gently cup her cheek. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just for a few months and then…"

She drops her hands from his face. And then what? 

 

**

He doesn't write anymore – there's no time. His mom is happy about that – he can tell; she's uncomfortable whenever he says or does something that his dad would've and he can't put his finger on why.

 

**

One of his side-projects as a prospect in between all the other shit is to clean out two of the rooms in the clubhouse that's used for storage. There's a lot of junk in there – just old papers that should be shredded and burned.

But in one box, he finds a few of his dad's old journals, photographs, and a manuscript: 'The Life and Death of Sam Crow: How the Sons of Anarchy Lost Their Way.'

He gets a lump in his throat and a chill down his spine when he reads ' _For my son Thomas who is already at peace. And Jackson, may he never know this life of chaos_.'

  
He skims the rest of it, suddenly remembering all those days of his dad sitting in front of the typewriter – was this what he was working on until he died?

Someone yells for him and he stuffs the manuscript inside his bag before leaving the room.

 

**

He doesn't have time to really read it until a few days later, not realizing how engrossed he is until Tara suddenly sits on his bed.

"How did you -?"

"Your mom let me in. She assumed you were sleeping."

He's been pretending to sleep while reading – he has a gut feeling that his mom wouldn't be too pleased with his finding this.

"I found this in storage – my dad wrote it. I remember him writing it when I was a kid," he says, showing her the manuscript. "It's about SAMCRO – what it was _supposed_ to be. It's nothing like what he wanted it to be."

Tara gently handles the manuscript into her lap, starting from the beginning. Her eyes are fixated on the dedication. "Jax," she starts, stopping herself short and just continues reading.

After a few pages she finally looks up at him. "This is…"

"I know."

Her eyes dart to the door. He nods and takes the manuscript away, hiding it under a loose floorboard under his bed.

 

**

Whatever he manages to sit in on involving the Sons of Anarchy, he keeps his mouth shut – he has to as a prospect, but now he's referencing the manuscript in his mind, how _off base_ this all is, how his dad's dream has turned to _shit_.

"I wish I never found that fucking thing," Jax says one night as they're sleeping in her room.

Tara kisses his chest – right above his heart – and doesn't say anything.

 

**

Tara calls him at midnight for the first time in a week – they had a fight about college and the club again. He's three weeks away from being patched and the Irish are here, making him scarcer than ever, and she needs to make a decision about going to UC San Diego in the same amount of time. He's at first surprised that she gave in first when he answers the phone and it's her.

" _Jax, I need you to come here_ ," she starts, voice steady in a forced manner." _I'm fine, nothing's wrong, just. Get here._ "

He doesn't need anymore convincing.

"Where are you going, baby?" his mom asks as he's slipping on his kutte.

"Tara's. Gonna apologize," he half-lies.

Gemma nods, a proud smirk on her face. "I raised you well."

"Don't wait up." He kisses her cheek and is out the door.

 

**

Tara's already opening the door and dragging him in by his kutte.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, concerned by the way she's frowning and her eyes are wide with anxiety.

"I found _this_ under my door," Tara says in barely audible tone handing over a thick envelope.

He takes it from her, all that says on it is ' _FOR JAX TELLER ONLY. SHARE WITH NO ONE_.'

"Do you know who dropped this off?" Jax asks, flipping the envelope around for anything else.

"No, I just heard a knock and when I came to the door, I saw the envelope. I checked the window and saw a guy running. Big, wearing all black. Nothing distinctive."

He flips the envelope to the back and carefully opens it, pulling out folded papers.

The first page introduces some woman named _Maureen Ashby_ and starts telling this story about her _affair_ with _John_ and how they were writing letters to each other. He's about to rip the letters apart and go out to find something to set on fire when he catches one of the last lines:

_Your father's death was not an accident._

He's numb when he hands it to Tara, slowly going through the letters his dad wrote to her. At first he's _nauseous_ with how much John loves this _bitch_ , but then he gets to this:

_I love you more than you could ever know. I'd do anything to be with you. Every day it becomes more clear that I don't belong here. I'm certain now that Clay and Gemma are together. They barely try to hide it from me. Gemma hates my empathy. She hates all of me. Her chill is terrifying. I know my days are numbered, Mo. And when these letters stop you can be certain that my death will come at the hands of my wife and best friend. At least my sweet Thomas will never suffer my life. I miss him so much. I only pray that Jackson finds a different path. He already reminds me so much of myself._

The letters fall to the ground and he can't stop shaking, his vision going black around the edges.

"Jax? Jax!"

He doesn’t know how ends up sitting on the floor or when he puked on the carpet, but Tara is wiping his mouth with a damp washcloth and is in tears. He hasn't seen her cry in years.

"Tara," he croaks, feeling like a little boy – lost and scared and _what the fuck is he going to do with this_?

He's never seen her this terrified. "You _can't_ ," is all she says in a strangled voice.

He grips her hands tightly and tries to even his breathing. He decides to take a leaflet out of her book. "Let's get the fuck out," he finally manages to say.

She immediately gets up and goes to her room, throwing whatever's nearby into a bag and he starts to clean up the rug, even though he doubts they'll ever fucking come back and frankly, Tara's dad deserves it, the dick.

But he needs to think, get his thoughts in order because if he runs, there are going to be questions – the son of the _founding father_ doesn't just fucking quit and run, not without a good reason, but he _can't_ share this, it'll destroy what his father created, or at least tried to.

(Or is it best to destroy it before it gets worse?)

Tara's hand is on his shoulder, snapping him out of his thoughts. "I'm ready," she says.

He stands up. He's not ready, but he fucking will be.

 

**

He parks the bike a couple of blocks away and sneaks into his house – it's easy enough, having done it a million times. He collects what's necessary – his notebooks, some clothes, his favorite books, and leaves behind the letters and his kutte.

He swallows down the lump in his throat and he doesn't look back as he and Tara head south.

 

**

It takes them all night to make it to San Diego, but Tara's dad's cousin is understanding and doesn't ask questions about his wanting to hide his bike in her garage.

"It's okay," she says, making them a pot of coffee. "You got out before it was too late. You're more than welcome to stay here while you figure out what to do."

Tara thanks her father's cousin – first cousin once removed? – and places her hand on his knee as she clears her plate of food.

He can't bring himself to eat yet.

 

**

It doesn't take the club long to find him – Opie arrives a few days later, looking unsure and hesitant.

"They want you back," he tells Jax in the backyard.

Tara is in the house, watching the conversation through the window.

"What did they tell you?" Jax asks, curious.

"Nothing – Clay just sounded real anxious about it. Gemma has been crying."

Jax grits his teeth and looks down at the ground.

"Jax, what's going on? It had to be big for you to drop everything – this is what we've wanted since we were kids," Opie asks, worried and upset and it sucks, Jax _hates_ this, leaving Opie behind, but –

"I can't go back, Ope, not after what I found out," Jax admits.

"What did you find out?"

Jax swallows. "It'll destroy the club."

"That bad?"

"Worse."

He wants to tell him – he can't _not_ tell him – but –

"You won't tell me," Opie says.

Jax shakes his head. "It's too big. It'll get you killed if you knew."

Opie swallows, twitching a little in his kutte as if he wants it off his back. "I'm sorry, Jax," he says, voice cracking.

"Me too, brother."

"I need the club," Opie confesses.

"I know."

"I would –"

"It's okay. I'm not asking you to."

Now Opie starts to cry and Jax brings him in for a tight hug. "It's alright," Jax repeats, eyes stinging. "Just be careful, okay? Watch yourself."

"We were supposed to do this together."

"I know, but we'll always be brothers no matter what. Don't be a stranger, alright?"

Opie sniffs and nods, pulling away. " _Fuck_."

Jax nods in agreement.

"What are you gonna do?"

Jax sighs and glances back at the kitchen. "Tara's gonna start classes in the fall, so I might find a garage to work at while I figure out what to do next."

"What do I say to Clay? Or Gemma?"

"This is exactly what you're going to say," Jax starts firmly, "You're going to say, 'Jax has made up his mind and has officially withdrawn from prospect status and further consideration of patching due to personal reasons that were undisclosed to me. He apologizes and wishes SAMCRO the best in future endeavors.' Then you're going to give my mom a sealed envelope with a letter I'm gonna write right now."

Opie nods. "Alright."

Jax pats Opie on the shoulder. "Hang out with Tara while I write this."

"Jax?"

"Yeah?"

Opie shrugs. "You never really needed the club. You might be better off."

"Let's hope, brother. Let's hope."

 

**

_I'm not coming back._

_Don't contact me or I will talk._

 

**

It's easy to find a job in a shop – he knows his shit and he does the job well, so he's one of three mechanics who specialize in motorcycle repair. It's dull nine-to-five work for the most part, especially after being a prospect for almost a year and all them craziness that it involved. But it's not bad, especially when he comes home to Tara already trying to study for college before classes.

(He didn't realize how much tension she was carrying in her shoulders this past year until now.)

 

**

Tara starts classes and he earns a living, hoping to make enough eventually so they can move out of the cousin's house.

Sometimes he hears Harley engines roars and he freezes, wishing he still had a gun strapped to him (he didn't tell Tara about that and doesn't plan on it (he got used to it)).

 

**

Time passes, words are written, discarded, inked.

(He shreds his writing a lot in the beginning and he considers the anarchy symbol to be inked over his heart or on his back shoulder.

"I think your back," Tara thinks out loud. "It's a weight, but it's behind you."

Jax's hand on her shoulder lowers to her lower back where she was supposed to get her tattoo. He already knew what crow he wanted too. She seems to understand what he's thinking because she leans in closer to his side.

"Maybe you can get my name tattooed on your ass," Jax teases to lighten the mood.

Tara snorts. "Darlin', I ain't no white trash.")

 

**

(Sometimes while Tara is in a study group and Jax is finished with the shop for the day and is alone with his thoughts, he'll hop on his bike and before he knows it, he's on his way north and he has to turn around before he does something stupid.)

 

**

He hasn't been home in a year.

Tara is thriving and that's enough for him, it is. But he misses his family – _having_ a family. Even though he wasn't a full member, he knew the Sons would do anything for him – he knew that when he was fucking twelve years old and Thomas died.

There's a sharp pain in his chest when he thinks about Thomas, his forever six-year-old body underground in Charming.

He hasn't talked to Opie in months.

He's been writing something different and he always thinks about tossing it in the trash, but continues with it anyway.

 

**

Tara suggests community college once.

"You have enough saved to start – and I mean, I can get a job for the weekends, or part time to help, if you really want it," Tara, handing Jax brochures and paperwork over her mountains of Physics homework.

He takes them, but he can't sit through a class and suck up to a teacher, doing pointless assignments. He'll break it to her after she gets through her finals.

 

**

Someone comes into the shop with a bike that screams money – Harley Davidson Rocker with custom _everything_ and frankly, Jax is about to direct him to the nearest Harley dealer because they don't get _that_ at their shop, when the guy gets off his bike, sticks his helmet under his arm and says to Jax, "Are you the kid that fixed up Max Jacobson's Harley?"

"…CVO Limited? Custom paint job?" Jax says after a moment of thinking.

"Yeah – says a kid fixed it up and it's been running beautifully since. He's gone to three Harley dealers and they haven't been able to permanently fix the problem."

Jax smirks a little. "Good to hear."

The man introduces himself, wants his own bike to be serviced, and when Jax directs him to his boss to schedule a date and time, he gives Jax his business card, which reads _Literary Agency_. Swallowing, he gently slides it into his pocket.

The man schedules his service for Saturday (he must've slipped a twenty to get that) and his business card burns a hole in Jax's pocket for the rest of the day.

 

**

Since graduating, Jax has been good with keeping his writing life separate from everything else – it's the only way he'd been able to keep going with the club. His inspiration would strike at mostly opportune times – except the worst being on a stakeout with Opie, who was surprisingly okay with taking over for an hour.

But on Saturday halfway through working on this bike, he gets _struck with inspiration_ , as that stupid saying goes. Bad enough that he abandons the bike and has to pull his notebook out of his bag, and when he finishes that, he finds a notepad to continue scribbling on. He loses track of time to the point where his boss walks in with the literary agent.

" _Shit_ ," Jax says out loud, scrambling to his feet, not given enough time to even glance at the half-finished bike before being face-to-face with his boss and client.

Luckily, before Jax can make a total idiot of himself, the client knowingly smiles and asks to read what Jax has written – in order for him to pay for the service, of course.

"Well, hand it over, Jax," his boss says with a clear warning in his tone.

A lump forms in Jax's throat and his hand grips the notebook to the point where his hand tremors.

The client smiles understandingly. "I know, I know, it's rough." He holds out his hand for the notebook.

Jax forces himself to swallow the lump down and hand over the notebook without shaking.

He goes straight to the bike to finish the service, not looking up because he can't focus on his work being picked apart – he hasn't even had _Tara_ look at his stuff yet, _fuck_.

"Do you have more?"

Jax whips his head up from the bike. "Huh?" Great start.

 

**

"Hey, you're late – something happen at the shop?" Tara asks, glancing up from her textbook.

"Yeah…you can say that…" Jax says, still in a daze when he plops himself across from her.

She furrows her brow and drops the book to the table. "What happened?"

He tells her about the client and writing and _literary agency_ and a meeting next week about a potential deal.

"Here," he says, pulling out his notebooks and pads and dropping them in front of her. "Read them. Think about it."

Her eyes are wide with shock and her mouth is twitching with a barely contained smile as she nods.

 

**

He's making good headway to being drunk as fuck when Tara finds him in the backyard, holding his work close to her like it's something precious. She sits down next to him in the grass.

"Jax."

It takes him a few seconds to look over at her.

She's been crying, but her jaw is clenched and she's staring at him dead in the eye. "Meet him."

He hands her a beer and they clink their bottles together.

 

**

Jax may have barely scraped his high school diploma, but he's no moron – he can read a contract just fine.

"It's not about that – I know you're bright – brighter than a lot of people I know. But it's a legal issue and to be honest, I like you. Call me when you've got a literary agent someone and we'll meet again."

So that afternoon, Tara and Jax talk to her cousin about finding an attorney and it's not too difficult to find someone that Jax can tolerate. It costs a stupid amount of money an hour and he and the attorney point out the same points to question the literary agency for the next meeting, but soon the paperwork is signed and his work is sent to be typed and go through the first round of editing. It should take over a year.

 

**

Names are unrecognizable, location changed to a different state, a fake name stamped on the front cover.

Nothing that connects him to his old life remains in those pages except the ghost of his brother, the ghost of what he could've been.

 

**

Tara is on the Dean's List again. Jax's novel makes _The New York Times_ Bestseller List.

Jax starts sleeping with a gun under his pillow.

 

**

Opie comes for the first time in almost two years.

"You wrote this, didn't you?" The copy Opie holds up is worn and well read. "It's about you and Thomas."

Jax swallows. "How…? You don't read, man," he tries to joke, but it falls flat.

He shrugs. "My fiancé, Donna, likes to read. I saw it on the nightstand and after reading a chapter I told her to not mention it to anyone connected to the Club."

"Fiancé?" Jax smiles something genuine. "Congrats, man. When's the wedding?"

"In four months. It's…I was gonna come down here anyway to invite you. I want you to be my best man."

Jax clenches his jaw and he may be close to twenty, but there are still tears in his eyes. "Ope…"

"Just…don't say no, okay? Think about it," Opie pleads. "I want my best friend there."

Jax closes his eyes. He can't say no.

 

**

Jax and Tara fight about it.

"If you go, you won't come back," she snaps, voice hoarse from screaming.

"I'm _only_ going for Opie – I want _nothing_ to do with that life!"

"You wrote an _entire book_ about that life. I'm not _blind_ , Jax – some part of you is _always_ going to want it."

"What I want doesn't _exist_ ," Jax yells. "What my dad wanted? It doesn't exist – it's not _possible_. But I won't settle, not after what they did to him."

She finally sits down, looking down at her hands.

"I would never settle for that when I have you – and this life," he continues, kneeling on the floor so they're eye level. He takes her hands. "I love you."

Tara lifts her head and there are tear tracks down her face. "I'm coming with you."

"It'll be dangerous."

"Opie's my friend too. I'm going," she insists with a glare.

He smiles a little and leans forward, their foreheads touching. "We'll need to prepare some things before we go."

 

**

It's really a matter of having a failsafe in case neither of them makes it out alive.

He leaves a fifty-page letter in his editor's drawer the day before – it's too easy to break in and leave it under some papers. In case shit goes south, he'll find it – he knows Jax pretty well at this point.

Tara's cousin tries to stop them the morning they're leaving. It was denial up until this point, then came the anger, the bargaining, the crying, then –

"Come back safe and sound," she whispers.

 _I don't want you making promises you can't keep_ , Tara had told him long ago.

So he doesn't say anything.

 

**

They ride up together. He has no fucking idea what's going to happen when he arrives. It's going to start a lot of fucking problems, dig up a lot of shit, but this is Opie, his best friend, his _brother_ , despite the fact that he's wearing a kutte and Jax isn't.

His back is still unmarked. He planned a long time ago with Opie to get the entire club's logo on their backs. Tara is holding on tightly, resting her cheek on the hot leather of his jacket, grounding him in the present.

He just focuses on breathing as they ride north.

 

**

_The prodigal son returns_ is a phrase that's thrown around.

He carries his gun on him and Tara's poker face is perfected. He watches the boys ride in a pack down Main Street with a feeling like a knife is stuck in his heart.

He hasn't seen Clay or his mom and he's not sure how he'll react when he does.

 

**

Jax doesn't go to the bachelor party and Tara doesn't go to the bachelorette party – they can't, there's too much of a risk – so he and Tara hole up in the kind of shitty motel right out of town, half expecting someone to barge in and have them meet Mr. Mayhem.

"Tara?"

"Hmm?"

"In case –"

" _No_ ," she interrupts sharply.

"But –"

" _No_."

His grip on her hips tightens, but he sighs and his head falls forward onto her shoulder in defeat.

(The thing is, he's had a ring for a while now, but he doesn't tell her that.)

 

**

Jax is helping Opie get ready in one of the back rooms of the church when Clay steps in.

The staring match lasts for a lifetime and Jax imagines so many ways to kill him, but what he ends up doing is finishing helping Opie with his tie and walks out, almost like Clay didn't exist.

And if he punches the wall afterwards, well. He's only human.

 

**

He bumps into Piney while turning the corner and if there's anyone Jax wants to tell this horror to, it's him. JT was Piney's _best friend_.

But he's wheeling his oxygen tank and his son is getting married and he'll be a grandpa soon enough.

Piney brings him in for a hug. "Your daddy would be proud of you," he growls so quietly that nobody in the world could hear but Jax.

Jax does his damnest not to cry because that's the closest he's going to get to absolution.

 

**

His mom does have tears in her eyes when she spots him. He used to admire her for being so strong – that's probably why he loves Tara so much – but now it just reminds him what a heartless bitch she is.

He looks away, refusing to let any of this ruin Opie's day.

 

**

"There's a quote from Shakespeare," Jax continues and half the club groans in playful annoyance, remembering the days when he'd sometimes carry books in his back pocket, even on missions. "Don't worry, it's a short one. It's from _Hamlet_ , which you should ignore because this – Opie and Donna – will never be a tragedy. 'Doubt though the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt I love.' Donna," he looks at Donna, who has tears in her eyes. "Never doubt Opie's love – once you have it, it's everything. And Ope, my best friend, my brother – I love you, be happy. Nobody deserves this more than you."

 

**

"We're heading out," Jax tells Opie when the night starts winding down at three in the morning.

Opie swallows but nods. "Okay. I'll see you – we'll come see you when we can."

Jax nods, hoping that it's true. "Congrats, man. I'm real happy for you."

Opie pulls him into a hug. "When you tie the knot with Tara, invite us, okay?"

"You'll be the first to know," Jax tells him, patting him on the back and pulling away.

He says his farewells to some of the club, shakes Piney's hand, and manages to shoot Clay a murderous glare before taking Tara's hand.

 

**

They stop a few feet past the _Welcome to Charming_ sign.

She's still holding on tightly. His hands shake.

"We'll be okay," he promises.

He feels her smile against the back of his neck. They ride forward.

(It's not quite the end – it's really another beginning.)


End file.
